It’s funny how life runs away with you. I remember being 21 and starting this blog – I had just started to write for NXG Magazine, an arts project in Deptford. I never thought I could be paid to write without a degree, but God bless the internet, which admittedly made this task more accomplishable.
The snowball effect is real – once I began rolling, I found myself flying. I wrote for the likes of Flavour Magazine, Marie Claire, The Independent, The Voice, Easyjet’s blog, 5 Mag and – the one closest to my heart – MTV’s The Wrap Up.
With all that going on, I stopped posting on my blog. I mean, I find myself unattracted to things that are overdone, and who doesn’t have a blog these days? (AKA I became lazy LOL.) But do we all really need blogs?
What are blogs, are they diaries? Are we all looking for a therapist, really? Are they for the conceited? Has social media turned us into exhibitionists? Is it simply the answer to our search for a voice? Am I overthinking this? Possibly.
Before I digress further, the point is I hit 25-years old this year and a friend said to me, ‘you not uploading on your personal blog was a stupid thing to do.’
It made me question if I even wanted a blog. I got to a point where writing about music, which I love with all my soul – wasn’t quite fufilling enough. I wanted to talk about being a woman, being a Muslim, being alive, being in love, being in depression, being in London, the disastrous state of the Middle East…
But who the fuck do I think I am, thinking anyone would want to read about those subjects from me? And why do I want to say anything on an open platform?
Nevertheless, my friend’s words stuck, so I’ll make an effort to blog, for me. I suppose if I have kids they can look back at it and laugh at how old fashioned (and cool) I am.